


Headstrong

by TheHatMeister (orphan_account)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: But there's also nice people, Gen, Trans Character, Trans Male Arthur, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheHatMeister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Pendragon is different from most men. Then again, most men weren't thought to be women when they were born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headstrong

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed a dearth of AFAB Arthur fics on here, so I've decided to correct that.

Arthur was five years old when he realized he was different.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like playing dress-up with Morgana - in fact, he loved it. She always wanted to be the princess, so he got to be the bandit leader, the knight, or the dragon, or sometimes all three. And so the two of them were happy, until one day Morgana decided to change their usual routines.

“Come on, Ursula,” she’d begged. “Just put on the dress, so we can be beautiful princess sisters and I can do your hair!”

It was a beautiful dress, deep red with gold edging. Fit for a princess. Arthur backed away, staring at the offered dress like it would bite him. Suddenly, there was something sinister about it, as if when he put it on, it would never come off.

“I don’t want to,” he pleaded, trying to fend Morgana off. “I want to be the knight!” But his foster sister was undeterred, grabbing Arthur and attempting to wrestle the dress over his head.

“NO!” Arthur shrieked, throwing the dress to the floor and running out of the room. As his feet pounded across the stone floors, tears began to blur his vision and stream down his face. Finding a small nook hidden by a tapestry, he curled up in a ball, sobs beginning in earnest.

Arthur sat by himself for hours, until the worried face of a knight pulled aside the tapestry to reveal his hiding spot.

“Lady Ursula,” he said, clearly relieved. “Please come with me, your father’s been worried sick.” Normally, Arthur would’ve resisted, but he liked Sir Leon, so he reluctantly took the accepted hand. However, as they passed Gaius’s chambers, he slipped free of the knight’s grasp and ran into the small room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Whatever is the matter, my lady?” Asked Gaius, raising a single eyebrow at the intrusion. Arthur took a deep breath.

“Do you have a potion to make me into a boy?” He asked in a rush, exhaling. Gaius looked at him for a long moment. 

“I see,” he said softly. “Have you wanted to be a boy for a while now?”

Arthur considered. Had he? Earlier that morning had been the first time he’d really repelled against something feminine. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. Gaius knelt before him, his face open and kind.

“It’s alright,” he said. “You don’t have to be sure yet. There are things I can do to help you, but you’re not old enough for them yet. We need to wait a few more years. Go on to your room, and I’ll talk to your father about it.” He gently but firmly turned Arthur around, opening the door to reveal an exasperated Sir Leon.

“Please take the young prince back to his rooms,” Gaius instructed, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. Leon’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but he nodded in understanding and extended his hand once more. 

The trip back to Arthur’s room was uneventful, but as soon as the door was closed and candles extinguished, he crept towards the window, where he could hear faint snatches of conversation.

“She’s headstrong, all right,” came Uther’s baritone, with a warm note of affection. “Just like her mother.”

“Sire, I’m aware how much you see Ygraine in your child, but the fact is, you may not have a daughter after all. It’s uncommon, but not unusual for children to reveal-”

“Nonsense,” Uther said firmly. “She’s just rebelling a little is all. It’s normal for girls. She’ll grow out of it soon enough. Now I won’t hear any more of this.”

“As you wish, sire,” came Gaius’s response. Even from where he was seated, Arthur could hear the resignation in his tone. He sank to the floor, tears coming to his eyes once more. How could his own father say something that horrible?

Eight years later, Arthur stands in front of the mirror, studying his reflection. Instead of broadening, his shoulders still remain as they are, the face too round, the lips too full. This year, Gaius promises him, this year he can start taking his potions, but Uther has to allow it. He thinks back to the day he ran into Gaius’s chambers, tears and snot streaking his face, begging for help. He hadn’t known his name then, but now he does.

He spent weeks poring through Geoffrey’s library, trying to find a name that sounded right. His mother had named him Ursula - her little bear - with her dying breath, and he’d wanted to keep something of hers with him forever. And so, when he came across the name “Arthur,” it had fit like a glove.

Gaius had supported him all the way, making the case for getting him and Morgana sword-fighting lessons, covering for him when he went hunting with the knights, and even beginning to mix up Arthur’s so-called “supplements”. But this step, Arthur had to do on his own.

Arthur pulls his hair over his shoulders. It’s long, beautiful hair, shining like gold in the morning light. In a way, he’s still oddly proud of it. Uther strokes it all the time, murmuring how much like his mother he looks. Hacking with a dagger, Arthur lets long strands fall to the ground, until the floor looks like the wheat fields after harvest day. He pulls on a red tunic, fastening a belt around it, and looks at his reflection once more. He still has a ways to go, but now things are starting to look the way they should.

He pushes open the throne room doors and stands in the entryway, not caring at the astounded look his father gives him.

“My name is Arthur Pendragon, and I am a man,” he proclaims, not caring how much his voice is shaking. “And if you don’t accept that, then you’ll have to find another heir.” Gasps bounce around the room, Uther turns purple with rage and shock, and Gaius is barely suppressing a grin. Without another word, Arthur turns around and exits the room, a huge grin on his face. He knows there will be consequences, but for now, he’s too giddy with excitement.

When Arthur is twenty and Merlin is made Arthur’s manservant, whispers and knowing looks flit around the court like poisonous butterflies, but he doesn’t care. He couldn’t be happier to have somebody who respects him. Merlin doesn’t question his daily dose of potions, always turns around while Arthur’s in the bath, and actually calls him “Arthur” or “sire”. It seems that few people deign to do so, other than Gaius, Morgana, and Gwen. Visiting dignitaries are shocked to see that “Princess Ursula” is in fact a healthy young man, they stammer and blush, eventually ignoring him altogether. 

But Merlin doesn’t mind. He tosses Arthur out of bed each morning with a cheerful “Rise and shine, sire!”, polishes his purloined armor, lists him in tournaments under different names - anything that Arthur could need. When Arthur eventually explains why people keep calling him “princess”, Merlin is completely unruffled.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, sire,” he says breezily. “My friend Freya was born Will, but that didn’t stop her from anything either!” Arthur cracks a rare grin at that, clapping Merlin on the shoulder.

“So nothing’s changed, then?” He ventures. Merlin shakes his head, still grinning. “Good. Then you won’t mind sharpening my sword.” Merlin groans, but good-naturedly, and soon the pair are laughing again.


End file.
